


Tied By Miles

by sellswordking



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellswordking/pseuds/sellswordking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft gets a phone call from Greg while he's supposed to be working.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tied By Miles

**Author's Note:**

> Title was taken from the song by Goodbye Tomorrow, which has been stuck in my head for quite some time. I have no excuses for this. It's just porn.

“You’re shacked up in some posh hotel room surrounded by dignitaries, aren’t you?”  
  
There was a soft snort in response. “Gregory, please. It is not _posh_ and I’m far from  _surrounded_. I’m not the only one attending the conference on this floor, yes, but I hardly think that counts as surrounded.”  
  
“Alright.” Greg shifts where he’s sat, missing the man on the other end of the line. “So you’re not surrounded. But admit it, you’re not in any kind of room I could afford.”  
  
Mycroft shifts as well, confirming Greg’s suspicions.  
  
“I think you’re underselling your salary, Inspector. But you may have a point.”  
  
“Ah ha. See, I _knew_ it. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than the finest things.”  
  
It’s endearing, the quiet chuckle Mycroft gives him. “But why should I, my dear?”  
  
Greg pauses for a moment, wondering if he should…  
  
“When you comin' home?”  
  
“When _am_ I coming home?”  
  
He sighs, but Mycroft knows he loves it. “ _Yes_. Cheeky. When _are_ you coming home?”  
  
“You know when." Mycroft smiles despite his attempt at a harsh tone. "Don’t play the fool, Gregory, you remember exactly what I told you.”  
  
“Maybe.”  
  
This time, it’s Mycroft who pauses, sensing there is something beneath the conversation they’re having.  
  
“Gregory, is there something you’d like to say?”  
  
“No.” Greg says quietly.  
  
“ _Inspector_.”  
  
The pause is longer this time, and even though Mycroft knows what he's going to say, it's still hard to choke out the words. “I miss you.”  
  
A quiet, endearing exhale makes Greg glad he said it.  
  
“And I you.”  
  
There’s a bit more shifting, making Mycroft wonder why Greg is so uncomfortable.  
  
“I don’t see why I couldn’t come with you. I have free days, you know. I’m overdue for a holiday.”  
  
Wonder not quite forgotten, Mycroft allows himself to laugh quietly. “I doubt it would be interesting for you here, Gregory. Nothing but stubborn politicians and arguments that go nowhere and--”  
  
“You.”  
  
 _That_ nearly stops his breathing all together. Mycroft is no stranger to that tone, the dark, warm quality of Greg's voice settling in the pit of his stomach but not daring to turn into anything else until the man speaks again.  
  
“You’re there. I could be next to you right now. Lying in your bed.”  
  
For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say, taken aback by the fact that Greg is actually doing this.  
  
“Gregory…”  
  
“Call me Greg now. _Please_.”  
  
“ _Greg_ …”  
  
Even if he wanted to, Mycroft couldn’t stop things now.  
  
“That’s it. See, it’s like I’m there next to you. And don’t tell me you’re not lying in bed right now, I can tell. Probably propped up against the headboard, you’ve got all kinds of papers and work all spread out around you. Is that why you wouldn’t bring me? I’d shove all of them off the bed and push you down to it,” Greg can hear his breathing turn shallow, and even though Mycroft can’t see him, he smirks.  
  
“You’d get this little look like you want to punish me, but we both know you won’t. Not until I’ve made you _come_.” His voice doesn’t falter until the last word, but they both know he does it intentionally.  
  
Mycroft’s voice, however, cracks on its own accord. “Gregory, _please_.”  
  
The power is a heady rush, hearing a man as powerful as Mycroft so near to shattering to his will after only a few words, and Greg doesn't let it go. “Like that, do you? It’s what I’ve been thinking about all day. You wanna know what else I’ve been thinking, Mycroft?”  
  
“Do enlighten me.” He doesn’t sound any more composed.  
  
Greg chuckles.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about how much I love your cock. Droppin' to my knees for you, watching you lick your lips and try not to seem desperate. It’s not becoming, is it? Begging a man to suck your cock. But you do every single time, with just your eyes. You press your fingers to the back of my neck until I look up at you, and you plead with me.”  
  
He knows he’s won, now, because there are the slick, unmistakable sounds just under Mycroft’s heavy breathing. It makes Greg press the phone closer to his ear, voice dropping an octave.  
  
“I can hear you, ya know. Slow down.” It takes a second, but Mycroft does as he’s asked. Greg smiles and nearly purrs out, “That’s it. _Slow_. Like I would if I was there, in your bed. _Naked_. No reason for me to leave the room, I don’t think I’d even bother to put pants on. Would you like that?" Down the line is the heavy sound of a very near orgasm, but Greg knows that Mycroft will hold off as long as he can. Anything to hear him keep talking. "Would you enjoy sitting at your little arguments about how to save the world, knowing I’m lying in your bed, without a stitch of clothing, spread out on the sheets you been fucking me into?”  
  
Mycroft can’t slow himself down again; he’s desperate, and it’s obvious by the way he can’t speak to Greg. Just the sound of a hand sliding easily along hard flesh and gasps like he's dying. Greg can see the man in his mind, head thrown back, the long column of his throat offered up to wandering teeth, his eyes shut tight as he tries to get even a third of the satisfaction they both have when they’re together.  
  
“You feel that heat; you’re pretending it’s me, that you’re deep inside me, and this time, it’s my turn to beg. Only I don’t do it with my eyes. No, you remember, don’t you? I dig my nails into you and I beg.” Just like he would if this were real, if they were together, Greg breathes out his pleas. “ _Please, Mycroft. God, fuck me, harder, please._ And you know exactly what I need. You spread my legs, and you lift my hips up, and fuck _deeper_ , touching me in ways I’ve never been touched. Not before I had you.”  
  
It’s so easy to tell that his lover is already almost there. He just needs _one. Last. Push._  
  
Greg is almost down to a whisper now. “Everyone knows you’re prim and neat, what would they say if they knew we don’t use condoms? Bet they’d all be shocked, wouldn’t they? What if I told them, Mycroft? Told them how much you love to come inside me. That you just stay inside me, because you like feeling all that come there, an’ knowing you put it there." His voice is thick with lust and his words are nearly slurring together, but he knows that Mycroft can hear every single one. "Cos I begged you to. You remember the first time I had you without a condom? On the floor in my flat, first time you saw me drunk cos of that case, and you couldn’t _stand_ it, but I didn’t care. I pushed you down and sucked you and I got on top of you and rode until you couldn’t help yourself." The memory was so clear, both men would swear they could still feel the _aches_ that came the next morning. "Then I got on my knees in front of you, and bent over, and you didn’t even hesitate. God, the rug burn alone was worth it, but what you did after you came…I’d never been more turned on in my life. Spreading my legs open more so you could look at the mess you’d made, sneaking just a little _taste_ of yourself still inside me.”

It’s unmistakable, that choked, almost _pained_ sound that Mycroft makes when he comes so hard his vision goes white, all the while sticking to the only word he can hold on to. Finally, the desperate reaches for air stop and the man calls his name one last time, voice thick with lust still.  
  
“Gregory.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“ _Thank you_.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Have you…”  
  
Greg smirks again, leaning back in his chair.  
  
“Have I?”  
  
“Playing coy, now? After _all_ that?”  
  
“No, I didn’t.”  
  
It suddenly dawns on Mycroft why he would keep from touching himself, why he would have been nervous at the start of the conversation. The glare is almost loud enough for Greg to _hear_. There’s a bit of horror in Mycroft's voice that makes Greg laugh.  
  
“… _Gregory_.”  
  
Beneath the horror, the mirth is impossible to miss. “I'm all shut up in my office. No one heard.”  
  
“You realize I’ll have to punish this reckless behavior when I return.” But there is a warmth to the tone Mycroft uses that belies the words. They both know exactly what will happen the second he is home. For a moment, they both simply enjoy a silence, listening to one another breathe. But they know they have to hang up.  
  
There’s only one last thing left to say.  
  
“Love you, Mycroft.”  
  
Mycroft doesn't hesitate. “I love you.”


End file.
